Cold
by states-of-uncertainty
Summary: John is away and Sherlock's mind won't shut up


_Cold_

That was thankfully the only thought to cross his over worked mind as he placed his forehead against the lightly frosted window and closed his eyes, blocking out the vision of cars and people sheltering under their coats in a vain attempt to remain warm.

The sudden peace was slowly dissipating as his skin became accustomed to the cold. He could feel his brain starting up again after the small shock. He groaned, Cocaine had been a much more effective method for shutting his brain down. He had never been an addict (John, Lestrade, Mycroft and probably every bloody idiot he encountered would have disagreed) His body had become addicted, but he had not. It was his muscles that had twitched during detox, it had been his head that had hurt and his skin that had sweated, but not him. His body had betrayed him in that respect, but he had never been addicted he had only desired the tranquillity that came with the high. That was why he had managed to clear his treacherous body from the drug it wanted as quickly as he had done. In a small clinic with a box of cold case mysteries which had been provided by Mycroft, Sherlock Holmes had sat through the long days during which his body freed itself from the harmful drugs. That had been nearly 6 years earlier, and wasn't going to break that streak. Well he wouldn't as long as John got home in less then an hour.

_Cold,__[kohld] adjective, noun and adverb_

_A relativity low temperature; having little or no warmth._

_Lower temperatures are very good at slowing decomposition and allowing evidence to remain intact for longer periods of time. Low temperature can-_ Sherlock interrupted his own thoughts by hitting his head against the window. He knew about 'cold' and he certainly didn't need to revise everything he knew about it. With a determined effort Sherlock turned his head and stared at the wooden window frame, half his face pressed against the frosted glass.

A strange prickling followed by a burning sensation began to cover the side of his face that was pressed against the window. _First signs of what will turn into frost nip within minutes._ Was what his brain unhelpfully supplied.

He didn't ignore the feeling, pain was one of the few things that forced his mind into silence. Steadily a numbness came into his cheek muscles and he removed his face from the glass.

Now a different kind of burning filled half his face, as capillaries reopened and normal body temperature was restored to the chilled flesh, leaving only a short lived red blotch on the skin. Turning before his mind had a chance to speak, he placed his other cheek against the freezing window revelling in the stillness that filled his head once more.

"What are you doing?"

Sherlock's eyes snapped open in relief and took in the sight of John looking at him quizzically as he shook the snow off his shoes.

"Bored"

"Well I am not going to ask someone to commit a triple homicide just to cure your boredom."

"I wish you would." He dead panned

"No, Sherlock. How about if instead of moaning about not having a case, you cleaned up the disaster the one you had yesterday left in the kitchen." Stated John looking disgusted as he passed by the microwave, just before turning on the kettle.

Hmm well John did have a point. How a concoction of ground human liver and coagulated blood had blown the door off the microwave was still something he wasn't completely sure about, but someone did need to wipe the residue off the cabinets, and neither John nor Mrs Hudson were going to do that. Which reminded him, wasn't there that new stain removing product he had concocted last week? What a perfect time to test it out.

John coming home always did help lessen the monotony of lazy criminals.

***Authors Note***

I was bored and it was 1 am so I wrote this. I am not overly happy with it but its decent enough for the internet. I am sorry for any mistakes or grammar errors since I have obviously not had this beta'd. Please feel free to tell me about mistakes in my writing.

I spent 7 years on a school bus 3 hours a day in total so I spent a great deal of time with my face pressed up against the window. However in the winter the window would be very very cold (yay Canadian winters) and as a distraction from boredom we would occasionally hold 'how long can you hold your hand/face/foot to the cold window. Yes it was stupid but my friends and I were 8 years old and very bored. Anyway I remember how your brain would just stop for a bit before focusing on the endless cycle of "COLD COLD IT HURTS" So I figured maybe it would help momentarily pause poor Sherlock's mind while he waited for John to return.

This is my first attempt at a one shot, far from the best and hopefully not the worst... I hope it was ok


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